


Affection

by lovelorn_petrichor



Series: Keith Kogane Presents: Parenting 101 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Keith (Voltron) Friendship, Barista Lance (Voltron), Bartender Keith (Voltron), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, HSDKK, Hot Single Dad Keith Kogane, Human Allura (Voltron), M/M, Modern Era, Single Parent AU, Single Parent Keith (Voltron), pidge/allura if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelorn_petrichor/pseuds/lovelorn_petrichor
Summary: In which two lovers dance, hand in hand, heart in heart





	Affection

The wine Lance had bought had long since been finished, glasses discarded on the coffee table. Keith had only had a couple of glasses - enough for a pleasant fuzziness to everything, but just too little so that he could be there suitably quickly if anything happened with Lexie. Not that he doubted Allura's babysitting skills; chances were that Lex had been in bed by seven on the dot sound asleep in the spare room in her and Pidge's apartment.

Keith was currently sat sideways on the sofa, up against the arm, with Lance placed between his outstretched legs and leaning back against his chest. At some point, Lance had started fiddling with Keith's fingers, weaving their hands together  and untangling them over and over, sweet mocha caramel against pearlescent pale. Keith's fingertips were calloused from years of guitar playing, snagged hands from the years he spent working in Shiro's workshop, and scars left behind by shattered bottles at the bar.  
Lances, on the other hand (ha) were untarnished, smooth skin unmarked and baby soft, nails neatly trimmed back. Habits that he'd picked up from having Allura as his best friend, Keith assumed. Whilst she wasn't big on outward appearances- she dressed to please no man- Allura was big on hygiene and tidy nails.

"Your hands are so much bigger than mine," Lance murmured drunkenly, his words a little slurred - yet still quite understandable - bearing in mind the three quarters of a bottle of wine he had polished off a little while ago. "You have dad hands,"

Keith raised a brow, huffing in place of a laugh from his position in the crook of Lance's neck. "Is that so?" he asked, hot breath fanning across the  man's tan skin, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He shuddered, squeezing Keith's hand in response.

"mmhm. My mama would call them 'honest hands'," he started, turning Keith's palm this way and that to get a full examination of his hand. "Hands that have spent their time building things and living wildly, brawny and calloused,"

Keith scoffed. "Thanks, Lance, for that wonderful description,"

"I wasn't, fishnished, thank you very much. Finshed- finnish- fishened- UGH you know what I meant. Anyway, as I was saying.... What was I saying?"

Lance had started to reach the point where the buzz was a little bit more than just settled in, yet still perfectly coherent.

"Brawny hands! That's it! Keith," he said, suddenly serious. "You have brawny hands. But they've also changed diapers and turned the pages of a bedtime story, and lifted little Lexie up onto your hip. Such power has been used for such soft things. And that is honesty. Using what you have for something greater than yourself- as Mama McClain once said,"

Keith felt his chest constrict at the words - a most wonderful grip that spread a warmth through his torso and heated his heart. Lance's words had meant a lot to the boy who had a reputation for destruction. From foster home to foster home, to orphanage to boarding school. He'd been packed off somewhere else for damaging what he had - and suddenly his hands were honest?  
Maybe he had just been looking at them wrong.

A soft song came on from Lance's ipod, gentle guitar and melancholy piano drifting from the speakers in the kitchen. He suddenly sat up, and Keith mourned the loss for all of a second, before Lance was staggering upright and holding a hand out to the man still on the couch.

"Dance with me?"

Had it been anyone else, Keith would have refused. Had it been anyone but the tall, willowy, tanned boy before him, he would have uttered out a pathetic "I don't dance" or "it's not really my thing".  
But this was Lance . Lanky, loudmouth Lance. The same Lance that read bedtime stories to Lexie on the nights that Keith looked dead on his feet, the same Lance that, upon finding out that loving Keith meant accepting his outgoing, outspoken daughter as well, didn't even hesitate to ask for a second date.

So instead, Keith smiled softly, taking Lance's hand, and stood up. His hand found Lance's waist and a smooth tan hand found his shoulder, their other hands meeting in a gentle clasp that felt like the ghost of a touch.

The song playing was a slow one, one that you'd sway to at a high school dance, or as the end of the night drew near. Keith felt it strike a chord somewhere in his memory, triggering an image in his head of a couple dancing together, one in white, one in black. Somehow, there was a voice narrating, and a skeletal finger pointed to the picture. "See those two? They're your parents at their wedding reception. God, they were so in love with each other, it was as if you could feel it yourself if you stared long enough,"

A gentle sensation on his chest drew Keith out of his thoughts, and he glanced down to find that Lance had rested his head against chest, ear pressed above his heart, listening to the steady beats. And god if Keith didn't melt at that.

Placing a kiss to Lance's hair, Keith exhaled heavily, revelling in the familiar warmth of affection fluttering in his chest.

"I love you, Lance McClain"  
  
  
  
  



End file.
